Online Dating

I cancelled my OkCupid account in September because some dudes were getting scary. However, I'm bored, and since I'm incapable of meeting respectable men in face-to-face situations (i.e. the grenade, the minor, others I have not mentioned) I'm wondering if I should risk my life (and scalp) and reactivate that bitch of a profile. What do you think?

The minor.

I've been so neglectful with the ole bloggity blog. I do apologize, and hopefully this story makes up for my negligence.

I messed around with a minor.

....

Are you done laughing? Can we continue the story now?

I know you're only laughing to hide your jealousy that I was invited to prom and you weren't. It's all right.

So I met up with a friend that I met at Panama Beach last year for spring break. We became bitches for life when we founds ourselves left behind at 10 in the morning for not coming to quick enough. By the time everyone returned at 11, she had me so fucked up by challenging me to drink an unhealthy quantity that I ended up passing out on the beach among hundreds of people bonging beers and dry humping one another. Good times.

When she invited me to her apartment, I jumped on the chance to repeat the terrible decisions that spring break offered. When I arrived at her place, I was already lit due to the handful of shots and beers I had at a bar with a few friends. This didn't phase my friend Krumbs. In fact, this only encouraged her to hand me a potent drink strong enough to put down a charging rhino as soon as I walked past the threshold of her door. Things went down hill from here.

I told her how friendly her neighbors were because as I was walking upstairs a handful of dudes hassled me to come visit them. This piqued her interest and she ran downstairs and invited said dudes to come drink with us. They looked 12. I'm sorry, half of them looked 12 and the other half looked legal enough to drink, and demented enough to rape kittens.

Things started to get blurry after the initial "Hey girl, I'm here!" introductions. The last thing I fully remember is getting Krumbs to give me a lap dance, after that my memory is fragmented like a war veteran's.  I do remember walking outside to get some fresh air because her apartment was hotter than Satan's scrotum. A cute dude comes up beside me and starts talking and I vaguely remember that the words spewing from his suckhole didn't jive with my adult brain.

"Whoa, how old are you, dude?" I slurred out.
"17."

This is when the brakes would have been nice. This is when drunk Batman should have excused herself and walked back inside, ignoring the jailbait altogether. But did Batman do this? FUCK NO.

The kid intrigued me. Excuse me, intrigued drunk Batman. Because the personality of drunk Batman differs so intensely from sober Batman that it is honest to God disturbing that I share the same body with this fucking freak. Nothing good comes from drunk Batman.

So we're outside, and homeboy is trying to woe me with talk about how cool it is that he can drive past 9 now or how rad R-rated movies are now that he can go see them (I'm not sure what we talked about), when he casually slips in the conversation that he wants up on the Batman. I laughed. In his face. Straight laughed and remarked, "That shit ain't happening, child." But I still flirt with the kids like a fool.

After my third mixed drink this was playing in my head.



I head outside again and homeboy proceeds to slam me up against the wall and tried to kiss me. A part of me is like "hell yeah!" but I'm still sober enough to have a conscience so I pushed him away. His friends walked outside and tell me that they have some liquor downstairs and wondered if I'd like to take a shot with them. Not one to ever turn down alcohol, I followed them blindly downstairs. While at this sketchy apartment I asked where the bathroom was. One guy says, "Oh, you can use the one in my room." He walked me into his room, shut the door, and attempted to kiss me while cornering me. "Listen, needledick, you have two seconds to back the fuck up before I attempt to punt your nuts into the next room." He allowed me to leave and I headed back upstairs.

The minor followed me and before I reentered Krumbs's apartment, he grabbed me and asked if I was alright. Now, it's kind of hazy what happened from here on out, but I ended up being mouth raped or being the mouth rapist. I remember going back and forth between kissing the child and pushing him away when people walked outside to smoke.

Long story short, I ended up on a futon with a high schooler's hands down my pants. Krumbs walked out and yelled, "Get the hell off her, are you trying to get her in trouble?" He's trying to talk his way into staying because he's a persistent little fuck (he's going to go far when he grows up). He asked me for my name, I replied with, "Why?! So you can report me to the authorities." He asked for my number; I laughed. He tells me he thinks he loves me; I tell him he's going to have a rough life if he loves women like me. Krumbs grabbed him by the collar and drug him out of her apartment. When she returned she looked at me and shook her head, "What the fuck is wrong with you, Batman?" I looked at her and sincerely said, "I have no fucking idea, but whatever the hell they are teaching kids nowadays about pleasing a woman, can they reedumacate the old ones? That kid has beautiful nimble fingers." I'm going to hell.

So close.

He slammed me up against the wall, sliding his hand up my thigh and lifting it up to wrap around his hip. I moaned into his mouth as his hips gyrated against mine. "Where's your room?" he whispered against my mouth and then bit my bottom lip. I, unintelligibly, grunted and pointed in the general direction of where my slumbering takes place. He wrapped my legs around him and carried me into my room, throwing both of us down on the bed and covering my body with his. 

He lifted my hands above my head, holding my wrists as he delivered kisses from my brow to my throat. I arched against him, panting like an overheated dog on a muggy summer day. He sucked my flesh into his mouth, alternating between pleasure and pain. I knew in the back of my mind that he was going to leave bruises that I was going to have to explain later, but by God who gave a fuck at that point. 

I bucked against him and he chuckled, willingly letting me roll him over to straddle him. I moved against him and he groaned as I dipped my head for a kiss. His fingers laced into my hair and crushed me against his mouth. I moaned, pulling back and teasingly started to unbutton my shirt; his hand shot out, pushing mine aside, and ripped open the fabric. Buttons scattered onto my bed, my floor, my nightstand… I looked down in disbelief, not sure if I was aroused enough to not be pissed off about the fact that he fucking destroyed my shirt. Then he bucked underneath me and I could have given two fucks. I slid the tattered material off my shoulders and threw it across the room. He leaned forward to kiss me and I pulled back. 

"Ah, so we're playing games, huh?" 

We started to wrestle, until he pinned me, his thighs pushing my arms together. 

"Alright, I give. Now get off me, fatass," I sighed out underneath his weight. 

"What a mouth you have! You should be punished for speaking so disrespectfully." 

He slid down my body and began to unbutton my pants. I tried to flea, but his hand shot out and held the top half of my body steady as his left hand unzipped and pulled down my pants. He rolled me over and began to rub my ass.

"What the hell are you…" 

SMACK.

He delivered the first smack and it rendered me speechless. This motherfucker just spanked me. I turned my head and looked at him in disbelief. He smirked at me as he raised his hand again and… SMACK. 

I started to squirm, trying to dodge out of the way of his hand. 

"Ah, Ah, Ah, I'll stop if you promise to be good," he laughed. 

"Eat me," I replied. 

He laughed harder, "You're going to pay for that." 

He lunged at me and I tried to scramble to the head of the bed but he grabbed my leg and flipped me over, tugging me towards him. He spread my legs, lifted my ass up, and ripped my panties. I was going to say something smartass, but the sound of him unzipping his pants shut me up. He pulled his pants down, I leaned back and…

"Hey bitch, cut your alarm clock off! That shit has been going off for 15 minutes straight," yelled my roommate as she slammed pantry doors shut retrieving sugar and a coffee mug. 

I groaned into my pillow, so close. 

21st Weekend Continued

The second night I wanted to see some tittays, so we hit up the local strip joint to help pay for some betches' med school tuition (or abortions? I'm not here to judge). I find myself sitting front row to girls' labias. I'm having a blast. I was spanked, motorboated, and one chick put her tit in her mouth so I could place a dollar bill underneath and then let it go - with a pop - to catch the money. I was in awe. After a few hours at the place I was ready to get my drink on at a bar, because I sure as fuck didn't want to pay $4 for a beer at the strip joint. However, I wasn't leaving without the lap dance my friends promised to buy me. My friends didn't score the feisty cuban chick that enamored me with her ass shaking; she ended up going in the back with some dude (probably to give a handy, lucky bastard) so I was stuck with some hipster looking bitch.

She rubbed her A-cups in my face, and asked me questions like, "So where's your hometown?" I responded with, "Why? Would you like to meet my parents?"It lasted merely 30 seconds, once the music switched she was off my lap in a flash and immediately rushed to my friends to receive her payment. It was meh. Compared to the attention I was getting from the other strippers this chick was underwhelming.

We leave the strip joint and head downtown to meet up with Liz at her friend's pad. Liz's friend is a 40-something midlife crisis in process. Her desperation to be youthful was palpable; I choked it down with my shots. She brought out a fist after we talked about the strippers. I'm not sure why this contraption of vagina torture was handed to me, but I handled it with fear.

After handling her sex toys we decided to hit up a club. They dragged my drunk ass into a countrified fucking rodeo of a bar where the dudes responded with, "I don't buy girls shots," when Babs asked for them to buy us a round. And I would reply with, "That's because you guzzle sperm, huh?" Babs and I ended up fighting with one of the employees that was manning the mechanical bull. Apparently, you're supposed to purchase a pass at the front, but we didn't want to go through all that trouble. At first we tried with sweetness.

Babs: "It's my friend's birthday. Come on, who cares about a silly ole pass anyhow?"

When that didn't work she turned sour.

Babs: "Seriously, dude? Are you fucking serious? This is bullshit. This place sucks ass."
Me: "And your  mom's a whore!"

Eventually someone gave us a pass and I was on the bull. The thing was slow as shit, not really releasing any endorphins for me, but when I was thrown off the second time and joined my friends I realized that the bull is simply a machine that shakes a girl's tits for the whole club to see. I rode that fucker for about 15 minutes to allow dudes, that weren't buying me shots, to watch my girls bounce up and down. Fucking country ass bitches.

After a few dances things started turning towards the lame and we decided to dip set on out of that place. As I heading out a guy stopped me, A-hole, and the roommate and introduced us to his friend. "Hot girls, this is my friend Ted. Ted, this is hot girl 1, hot girl 2, and hot girl 3. Do y'all want to slam tonight?" I raised an eyebrow and said, so eloquently, "What the fuck does slam mean?" He leered and said, "Fuck." I laughed, head tilted back, obnoxious laughter spewing from suckhole and retorted, "I think we'd get more pleasure out of slamming each other, kid." He snorted and walked away.

We all ended up at my friend, Fro's house. I blacked out at this point, but Babs vomited up her drinks and ended up laying on his hepatitis covered bathroom floor. She also molested the roommate, and I pulled down A-hole's shirt so we could see her chesticles. It was a great birthday weekend.

Reevaluate (with Humor Included)

Ok, I've calmed down. Even though I'm still a little pissed off at myself I'm starting to see the humor in the crazy ass situation. I've learned more details about my drunk ass. Apparently, I blacked out in the middle of the day as well. My friends told me that I climbed into the passenger side of someone's car to take a little nappy-poo, and when they tried to get me out I kept repeating, "Nay!" We also went to the grocery store to pick up more alcohol (clearly, great idea) and while my friends are inside picking up the goods I escaped from the car, and take a piss in the middle of the parking lot. The roommate said, "We come outside and there's your ass for the whole world to see." I was taking a nap in Babs room and as I was lulling off I noticed the rape button that's installed in the wall for emergencies. Guess who thought it would be hilarious to press this button over and over again? I had standards at the beginning of the night because one dude was dancing on me and tried to kiss me, the roommate said I pulled back with a look of disgust and said, "Dude... are you fucking high?"

Eh, the moral of this story my blogger friends... for the love of God, eat something before you go on a 24 hour binge drinking extravaganza. Also, if you're going to attempt to lose your virginity, don't pick a grenade because your friends will be sympathetic for about an hour before the jokes start. I'm ready to try sex with a hot person now.

Shame

I need to talk about this because it is eating me up inside to the point where I'm actually nauseous. I am so ashamed of myself.

I visited Babs for Halloween weekend in her college town. The roommate and I woke up at 4 in the friggin morning to get there in time to tailgate for a football game. I immediately started drinking in the parking lot of the grocery store because as we're packing the cooler a beer hit a jagged piece of ice and started spurting the sweet nectar everywhere. I shotgunned the bad boy and the drinking commences. I had mimosas, beer, tequila, lynchberg lemonades, vodka, coke and rum... you name it, I had it. I also, intelligently, did not eat one damn thing that day. It is honest to God amazing that I didn't piss myself because I was trapped in panty hose and a leotard. As Jim Gaffigan puts it, "I make a hot cat woman." Then blackoutsville. At one point I'm dancing in the crowded bar, getting drinks handed to me left and right, the next... I'm in some strange guy's bed. Naked. Making out. Attempting to have sex, even though I'm clearly on my period and have a cork in my vag.

What the fuck.

I pass out and end up coming to to the sound of knocking. Homeboy gets up and answers the door and comes back, startled, "Uh, the cops are looking for you." I hop up out of bed. "What?"

My friends filed a missing persons report. I called the Roommate, who answers, peeved, "Where the hell are you? We've been worried sick!" I ask the dude where I'm at and he tells me, where I reiterate it to her shamefully. After I hung up the phone I got a good look at the dude and exclaimed, "Dear God." As Jersey Shore kindly puts it, I jumped on a grenade. I'm starting to get sick with myself. I feel dirty and shameful and I can't believe that I did this. I put my clothes on and try to skiddadle on out of there when the guy's phone rings and... it's my parents. They traveled an hour and a half to go looking for me. I tell them I'll meet them outside but they are adamant about going up to the door and having a talk with the guy. Apparently, they were the ones that knocked on the door saying that they were looking for me. Homeboy lied to them about me being there. They didn't take to kindly to that. He's starting to freak out, "How old are you?" "12." He didn't find the humor in this statement. "Relax dude, I'm 21." He sighs. "What's your name?" "That's not necessary. I really just want to forget this whole thing happened."

I walk out the door and my parents are outside. They try to walk in. I'm begging them to just go. Please, dear God can we get me as far away from this place as possible. I get in the car and they tell me how the Roommate and Babs called them at 3 in the morning in tears because they couldn't find me. Telling them that the last place they saw me was leaving with some dude. I apparently followed a guy back to his apartment where a party was commencing. I ended upstairs in a different apartment with the grenade.

I get home and the parents' phone rings. It's the grenade checking up on me. Making sure I was alright. Telling me that I just walked up into his apartment and into his bed. How I got naked. How he's sorry he took advantage of me. How he thinks someone probably ruffied me when I was at the bar. I tell him thanks for calling. He says if I'm even in his town hit him up. Yeah right.

I've been crying on and off today because of the shame. I can't believe I allowed a dude to do that, and without protection, and with a cork inside. I feel dirty. I don't know what to do. It's going to take me awhile to recover from this.

Ways to Torture My Cat

If my cat drops a deuce on a piece of furniture one more time I'm holding him down and doing this for Halloween. 

This is ridiculously cool looking; his ass will probably be decorated like this, bad behavior or not. 

21st Weekend

I'm hungover and still a little drunk, so bare with me on this post.

Side note: Holy shit, blogger is blindingly white. Who the hell designed this posting page? I need fucking sunglasses to type.

I've been meaning to disclose information about my 21st for a while, but I'm lazy as shit so it has been put on the back burner. Now that I feel like I'm shitting fire, and random waves of nausea come barreling at me at random points, I feel that it is a perfect time to talk about that weekend of debauchery.

I only invited my closest friends to celebrate my 21st because I planned on getting embarrassingly shithoused. I also didn't feel like putting up that fake pretense of being halfway decent towards people, like you mandatorily half to do with acquaintances/people that haven't seen your tits or heard your O-moan because they were laying right next to you while some dude's hands were drilling for oil down your pants. So, I invited my two best friends from back home, Babs and Pecker, to celebrate the fact that I could now legally do what I've been doing since I was 11.

Babs brought her friend, Liz, whose hometown is my college town. Liz is fucking crazy. The first time I ever did some Lindsay Lohan candy was because Liz gave it to Babs and I while I was visiting them. Babs and I ended up classying it up in the ole bar bathroom, and Babs walked out with stuff on the side of her face. I let her walk around for a good 15 minutes and then told her. She didn't find it as funny as I did. Anyways, Liz is crazy, and I was ecstatic to have her come up and show me a good time.

When 12 o'clock hit, we decided to head downtown to celebrate my legalism. I was already pretty lit because we had been drinking since Babs came to town. My first legal drink was a shot of Jack Daniels that some guy bought me. Babs is the perfect motherfucker to have around when it's your birthday, I paid for nothing. She simply went around the bar and yelled at scared individuals that they needed to, "Buy this girl a fucking shot. It's her 21st!" At one point I stumble (literally) across a guy who is celebrating his 21st as well. He's the last thing I remember before blackoutsville. I didn't forget the whole night, but there are some moments that have escaped my memory.

Me and the fellow 21 year old. Look at how gleeful and utterly fucked up we are. By the way, that's my cellphone and unnecessary money in my back pocket; I didn't want you to mistake that bulge as me shitting myself. 

Apparently, I get lap dances. Yes, that's right, more than one. I decided to take a breather and go and sit down on the couch located at the side of the bar/dance area. Liz approached me and started straddling me, which then lead to her shaking her ass in my face, which then lead to a lap dance. After she was done, some dude came up and decided to give it a go as well. This, from what Babs tells me because I'm fucking retarded at this point, pisses off the 21 year old that I bonded with; he decides to one up the other guy and shove his crotch in my face as well. I'm disappointed in myself for not remembering any of this. I do have documentation though.

I think, technically, this is more of a face dance than a lap dance.

After having people rub their groins on me, I take to the dance floor and show all those bitches that white people seriously cannot fucking dance. I started to scare my friends because I was wearing high heels and had reverted back to infancy; coordination was not my strong suit at the time. At one point Pecker announced, "We need to get food in this bitch before she dies." We leave the bar and head down the street to a local pizzeria that stays open all night. I scarfed down a few slices (a few means Babs bought me and her a slice, I ate mine, half of hers, and then stole A-holes when she was preoccupied with talking to the roommate). This is when my memory starts to come back. After the food I'm thinking, 'let's continue drinking!' But apparently the bouncer outside the bar was thinking, 'this bitch is a fucking wreck' because he told my ass to go home. I think almost breaking my ankle in front of him blew my cover.  Since I was too drunk to function, my friends thought it would be a good idea to just head on home.

We get back, and I end up hopping in the shower with Liz (nothing more than a little nipple tweak happened). While I'm in the shower, Babs is outside smoking a cigarette and some douchebag took it upon himself to yell the n-word at her. Shit got real. Babs is a big, black amazon woman. She's the friend that I like to start shit around so when bitches are about to give me a five finger kiss I simply point to her and say, "Before you do that, she's with me." This dude was obviously jonesing for some pain in his life.

Babs hopped over my patio railing and started yelling at the dude. "What the hell did you just say, motherfucker?" He started backpedaling, trying to say he was singing a song; quoting a movie; reciting a poem. Babs layed into him and at one point a neighbor of mine comes out and yelled, "Shut the fuck up. You guys are so immature." Babs simply turned, looked at that twatwaffle and said, "Get the fuck inside." Liz ends up getting out of the shower before me, and noticing that no one was in the apartment, she heads outside to investigate where the hell everyone went. As soon as she walked out on the patio, Babs yelled, "Liz, this motherfucker called me the n-word." Liz wrapped her hair up in a towel, hopped the railing, ran over to the dude and kicked him in the balls. 

When I get out of the shower they tell me what happens and I'm livid. I walked outside, but the dude was off icing his testicles by then. This was my first night.

To be continued...

"You didn't show me how to love properly."

I'm friends with my mother on Facebook and I haven't exiled her from seeing any of my activity; I know, I'm fucking retarded. I torture the woman anyways by not shying away from details of my life. "Yeah, I offered to show my friends my butthole, but no one took me up on my offer. I bleached it and everything, it's like staring at the holy land or some shit," I'll casually say to her as she gags on the other end of the phone. She's heard stories about me making out with a fat chick, getting lost in an apartment complex's parking lot for hours and barfing on someone's SUV, and waking up in some dude's athletic shorts and dress shoes that I apparently stole after I pissed myself one night. I've even threatened her with the statement that she's getting a phone call right as some dude's meat sword enters my holy grail for the first time. "Please, for the love of God, don't call me," she begs me every phone conversation. There's no need to shun her from my Facebook realm; or so I thought.


My friends have made the mistake of expressing to my mother that she's "awesome" and "fucking way cooler than any other parents that they know." With this new found "hipness" (as she likes to state) she feels that she's witty enough to comment on the banter between my friends and I. At first I accepted it, because I guess it's better than the alternative, which is her trying to squeeze into my clothes and going to Applebee's to get drunk and hit on middle-aged men. But, with time, the asshole adolescent inside of me has reared her ugly head, and I find myself fucking with my mother to the point where it's just cruel. I wanted to share with you, my blog friends, a glimpse into the Facebook relationship between my mother and I. I hope you enjoy. 

Orange = Batman's Mom

Blue = Tiny

Purple = Batman

"Dry Those Tears Up, Pussy. That's Why Daddy Left."

Last night we were visited by a young fellow, let's call him Tiny. Tiny is a lithe little man-child, with an adorable stoner outlook on life. He's all about kindness, and peace, and tree-fucking; basically, the anti-Batman. But, I enjoy his company because he tells me stories like this: "I used to have a hermit crab when I was younger. My dad said that after two months it died, but he kept it in the cage for another three months because it pleased me. I was just looking at a shell and some rocks everyday for three months. I like the fact that a hermit crab can die but it still looks alive." 

Tiny decided, for whatever reason, to spend the eve of his birthday with A-hole, the roommate, and I. We all have a few drinks, and pretty soon Tiny's loose off the goose. At one point his friend texted him and he went outside to talk. When he returned, he rushed to the bathroom and stayed in there for roughly half an hour. "Yo, what the hell is your friend doing…yanking it in the bathroom?" I charmingly say to A-hole as we watched a Lifetime movie. "I have no idea," she said as she got up to knock on the bathroom door. When she returned she simply shrugged, plopping her big ass back down on the couch. 

Eventually, Tiny emerged from the bathroom and… he's crying. All three of us, in our awkward non-maternal ways, decided to simply ignore it; continuing to watch a girl get her ass beat on t.v. Then he begins to sob. During commercial breaks I'm looking at A-hole and going, "Psst. Psst. Go check on your boy." She shook her head back and forth determinedly and mouthed "HELL. NO." After about  25 minutes of blubbering I'm good and uncomfortable enough to approach him. "Uhh… so, what's up, homie?" I said, while trying to place my hands in my imaginary pant's pockets. "You don't care!" he wails, causing me to take a step backwards and look around the room for somewhere to retreat. "Uhh… suuuure I do," I stammered out. "You're over hear crying and shit, something is obviously not good." He sobs, "My friiiiend! He… he almost OD'd tonight." "Wait, almost? As in, the motherfucker isn't dead?" I said, looking at him as if he took a dump on my couch cushions. "You're crying over an almost?" A-hole (the bitch) finally comes over to check out the blubbery mass of male, and I take the opportunity to dipset on out of there. 

A-hole ends up holding him for about an hour while he complains and cries; all the while, she's watching Lifetime over his shoulder. I woke up this morning and found out that A-hole almost had sex with him. "Wait, you mean to tell me that after watching a grown man cry… for hours, you still were going to have sexy times with him? You just don't love yourself. And what the fuck do you mean by almost had sex?" I asked. A-hole replies, "I felt bad for him. By 'almost' I mean he couldn't get it up." Poor blubbering, erectile dysfunctioned Tiny.

Lessons learned: Tiny's a drunk crier. Batman will not be getting dunk with Tiny anytime soon. My future spawn are not allowed to cry.

"Let me pack your crack"

My roommate has had a strong desire to peg a man for as long as I've known her (roughly 3 years). If you're like me, and this is your first time hearing the word 'peg', then you probably would like a definition of some sort. 

Pegging (defined by Batman): the act of a woman sticking her expensive ass strap-on into the bunghole of a (hopefully) voluntary man. 

The fascination with butt-play started off innocently enough for my roommate. At first, she simply threatened our guy friends with the possibility that they'll get anally raped if they slept on our couch. Then she started pricing strap-ons. Then she purchased a strap-on. Then she posted an ad on Craigslist asking for men with "slender hips" to reply for a night of hide the sausage. What I'm about to tell you now scares me the most; numerous men that replied were married, and seeking this extracurricular activity while their wives were out of town. What. The. Fuck. 

Ok, I get it. Some things you can't share with your significant other because you will most definitely freak them the fuck out. Not many people can say the perverse things they want to do in everyday conversation. "Hey baby, I get turned on while watching bitches puke into one another's twats and letting a dog eat them out; by the way, we need new tires on the Honda." Okay, I took it a bit far there, but you get my drift, some things you have to keep to your demented self. But, to cheat is going a little bit far don't you think? I'd at least suffer through the impending, awkward as hell conversation to get my spouse to do some freaky things to me before answering Craigslist ads. 

So, she sorts through some weirdoes. A couple of married tricks. And settles on a marine named Thomas. He seemed the least likely of the inquiries to skin her and leave her for dead afterwards. They set a date to meet, and she expresses to A-hole and I that she would like for us to go with her when she meets him. We both readily agree, because we want to fuck with this guy, and make the roommate as uncomfortable as possible.

The day comes and we were waiting outside the restaurant that we told Thomas to meet us at. The roommate was sweating bullets, A-hole was giggling like a school girl, and I was sitting down on the bench making statements like, "I hope he's not distinct* looking," or "Will you still bang him if he has a lazy eye?" Five minutes passed and Thomas arrived. Not bad, not great, just meh. We were seated at a booth at the back of the restaurant, with the roommate and Thomas on one side and A-hole and I on the other.

The conversation, at first, was a bit awkward; we were all struggling to come up with useless banter. I, not being one to shy away from the obvious, immediately launched into inappropriate sexual questions, "So, Thomas, do you like to have your salad tossed?" He looked taken aback and mumbles, "Uh…" The roommate comes to his rescue, "I'm sorry about her. Batman does not have a censor; she's crude." I smiled sheepishly and the waiter, almost instinctively, approached us. The roommate, A-hole, and I all placed our food orders and Thomas simply ordered water, which caused me physical pain to not comment on. I swallowed down the word vomit, "So, you're not eating, huh? Is that because you're going to have your hidey-hole plowed later tonight?" And instead, because the roommate was giving me the side eye, I simply leaned back in the booth and allowed everyone else to talk. 

After dinner, the roommate deemed Thomas acceptable to peg, and he followed us back to the apartment. Right as he entered, he asked where the bathroom was located so he could "wash off real quick." He shut the bathroom door and the roommate proceeded to freak her shit. "What the fuck am I doing? Holy shit, I'm actually getting ready to do this. Am I crazy? He's not bad looking, right? I mean… right?" I reply with, "It doesn't look like you have much of a choice. Homeboy is ready to go. Yeah, he's alright, if you squint while you're looking at him. Now get in there." He opened the door to the bathroom and approached us with just a towel leisurely wrapped around his hips, "You ready?" The roommate tensed up and followed him into her bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind them. 

I rushed to my bedroom and pressed my ear to our adjoining wall. Silence. Then talking. After ten minutes of them talking, I get bored and go talk to A-hole. I return to my bedroom and… still talking. Holy shit, this was a bit ridiculous. I decided to get them in the mood by playing this song.

Then this song. After playing these gems I pressed my ear to the wall one last time and… talking. I gave up because even though I'm a huge pervert, I have the attention span of a gnat. I take a shower and when I get out I find the roommate jumping up and down in the living room.

"We pegged!" she announced with vigor. "No shit?" I question. "All I heard was you two yapping your suck-holes." She laughed, "Yeah, he's a fucking talker. But we did it. I pegged a man. My life goal has been achieved. I need to clean the lube off my walls." "You can die now," I replied and then walked into her room to take pictures of the lube handprints on her walls; I wanted to send them to my mother to make her uncomfortable.  

And that, my friends is the first time that my roommate pegged. She did it again with the same dude a week later. He took a laxative beforehand and ended up shitting on her and himself in the process. While cleaning herself in the shower homeboy got an erection and they boned hetero style; she bled because no one has entered that holiest of holies in a hot minute (roughly 2 years). Afterwards, they decided to go to a fine dining establishment (Waffle House) and on the way she found out that his name is not actually Thomas. So now we call him non-Thomas. 

El Fin. 


*'distinct looking' is my politically correct way of saying a person is one fugly s.o.b.

Coming Soon: Death By Asphyxiation

I have great things to post in the near future. Seriously, you'll probably asphyxiate on your laughter and pass out... that fucking good. I should put a disclaimer before the post stating that you might die; please leave a note beside your squeet covered keyboard so your family knows not to sue my ass for killing you. The only problem: the stories are trapped in my noggin, and taking into consideration that i've been drinking away my brain cells since Saturday (I turned 21, yo) I fear I might leave things out. Here are some things to wet your appetite though:

-Pegging
-Lap dance/Face dance
-Cat shit
-Nut punts

Aren't you excited? I'm thinking about posting some pictures, but to keep my anonymity I'll bar out my eyes because eyes are the windows to the soul (or some shit). Happy Hump Day!

My Neighbors Suck Ass Cont.

So, I left off the 'My Neighbors Suck Ass' post with a cliffhanger. What happened Monday night, Batman? And why the fuck is it taking you this long to write about it, asshole? No one thought that, but I like to reinforce my narcissism with delusional thoughts that people hang on to my every word. 


Monday night (or Tuesday morning if you want to get all technical about it like a jackass) my roommate was stirred from her slumber by a ruckus going on outside. She rushed from her bedroom, bleary eyed, and swings open the door to find a gaggle of marine douchelords challenging one another to a headbutting contest. I'm kidding, of course, but there were a shit ton of marine dudes outside yelling poetry like, "Fucking chug it, pussy!"and chest bumping. Meanwhile, Batman is blissfully in a coma because when I pass out, I'm fucking out. That's probably why I pissed the bed until I was like 10. That's not related to the story; sorry about that. 


The roommate kindly asked the gentlemen to keep it down because, "It's fucking 3 in the morning and I have school and work tomorrow." The guys sheepishly apologized and that was the end of it. WRONG. The next day, the roommate and I were having a staring contest (I was totally winning) when we hear a knock on our front door. The roommate opens it to find a bleached blonde girl with an intricate chest tattoo peaking out from her tank top. 


Roomie: "Uh, hello?"
Chest Tat Chick: "Uh, hi. I'm your neighbor next door. I just wanted to let you know that my roommates' friends pissed on your mat and your door last night. I wanted to tell you because my roommates are fucking crazy and I have every intention on moving."
Roomie: "Are you fucking kidding me? Well, er, thanks for telling me."


Roomie turns around and goes, "Did you hear that shit?" I went cross-eyed with anger (sexy). "Let's fucking talk to Tits McGee and tell her what the fuck is up." 


Tits McGee is our leasing lady. I call her Tits McGee because she has a nice ass, of course. But seriously, she's a blonde cougar that wears low cut tops and I can't tell you what her face looks like. 


We march down to Tits McGee and tell her what the hell went down. She assures us that our neighbors will most likely be evicted because they've had numerous complaints on file from other residents concerning them. They've also had the cops called on them a handful of times (including that night) since moving in. It clicked then. Those motherfuckers thought we were behind the po-po visit. We bore the brunt of their anger just because Roomie had enough balls to ask them to shut the fuck up to their face. I was fuming.


We reach our door and I see the piss stain streaking down to the now very evident wet spot on our mat, and I can't take it anymore. I go inside the house, get a pair of gloves from the box my mother jacked from the hospital, pick up the mat, and chuck it at the neighbors door. All while saying, "Get your ass out here, BITCHES!" Nothing. No response. "No? Come on out!"


I stand there with my arms puffed out like a silverback gorilla. Waiting. Nothing. I didn't see them again after that. They kindly placed our mat back on our side later on that night though. We promptly gave it back to them. We did this tango for a few nights until finally I chucked it in the dumpster. 


They were evicted two weeks later. The Roomie watched one girl sit on my piss mat because Tits McGee changed the locks to their apartment. I think justice was served. 

If you relapse... I have a song that makes you feel justified.

Sleep Deprivation

I'll continue 'My Neighbors Suck Ass' in the next post; I'm sleep deprived as all hell and felt it would be entertaining for all if I post while my mind is a pulpy mess. Expect random weirdness. I haven't expressed a coherent thought in hours. People keep looking at me like I shot up heroine with toilet water in the ladies'.

My roommate placed a craigslist ad stating she wanted to peg a man. She's received over 35 requests from men asking her to shove her fake fuck stick in their hidey-hole. Holy hell, that's some scary shiz. 35 supposedly "straight men" want something up their bunghole, which means that whoever I trick into marrying me will probably a) want this done to him or 2) has already had this done to him. I don't have the funds to afford a strap on, I hope a fist will suffice.

I went to Harris Teeter yesterday to pick up flowers for the roommate for our 3 year anniversary of being best friends for eva. While trying to decide between the daisies and the sunflowers an elderly gentleman approached me. The man was missing a few teeth and also seemed to have misplaced his toothbrush, I assume, from his rotten front tooth he was pimping. He leaned a little too far into my aura, inhaling rather loudly, and growled at me. I simply stared at him in disbelief. He smiled his jacked up smile and winked at me, pushing his cart over to the bakery section. The florist snickered, so I growled at her.

I went home for Labor Day weekend and during the drive back to my college town my car broke down. While waiting for A-hole to drive the hour and a half journey to pick my ass up, I had a lot of time to observe the locals. The one I admired the longest was a very sperminated Subway worker who smoked 7 cigarettes while waiting for her ride to pick her up. When I told A-hole about this she looked disgusted. "I can't believe people like that reproduce." I shrugged and replied, "She's doing it for her own well being." A-hole gave me the side-eye and asked, "What do you mean?" I said, "Well, now she's smoking the fat off that fetus growing inside of her so it doesn't do as much damage to that hooch of hers." I might steal that idea when I get preggo.

Well, I have to end on that note. I have to stay awake for another 12 hours, people are going to frigging love me today.

My Neighbors Suck Ass

Gather around and let me tell you a story of woe and heartbreak. I kid, it's a story about raging and pissing on doormats.  I feel as if I should provide a disclaimer before we dive into this ocean of shit.

Disclaimer: Batman is generally a nice person. Er, okay, maybe nice is pushing it, but she is usually a mellow, laid-back individual that avoids confrontation. Alright, let story time begin.

I moved into my new place about 4 months ago. The roommate and I were tired of the geriatric community we were residing in and we desperately wanted a change of scenery (which is why we moved 500 yards east).  Also, our buddy A-hole wanted to live with us and we needed a bigger place to store all of our crap (8 tennis rackets and a dining room table we never use). We decided that the new luxury apartments that were built overnight seemed like a safe place to house ourselves. Plus, a flat screen television, HBO, and a gym membership were inclusive with the signing of the lease (you had me at flat screen).

Things were great the first week. Everything was new, and I had the peace of mind of knowing that my ass was the first ass to lay in my new bathtub, and that some wrinkly old man ass hadn't been wiped back and forth on the bottom of my tub. But things can never remain ideal, my friends.

A-hole came back from work one day and walked into my room. "Batman, our neighbors switched out our mats." Our mat consisted of a piece of dingy carpet that our apartment complex so kindly provided for its' residents while we moved in. Our carpet-mat was significantly larger than everyone else's.

Me: "What the fuck? Who does that shit?"
A-hole: "I know! Don't worry about it, I switched them back. Problem solved."

Problem not solved. The roommate came back from work a few hours later and right as she closed the door she goes, "Why do the neighbors have our mat and we have the little ass carpet piece?"

I was perturbed. Who steals their neighbor's mat?  If these fuckers were stealing something as useless as a doormat then god knows what the fuck else they would do. Due to annoyance, we walk outside and do the ole switch-a-roo again. Fast forward to the next evening, the roommate comes home and sighs, "They did it again." I didn't even look her way. I simply turned the shitty ass episode of Teen Mom off, extended my hand so she could give me the Blizzard she made at DQ, and began to eat with aggression. I scarfed the sucker down in 10 minutes, stood up, and headed to my bathroom with the cup clenched tightly in my hand.

Roommate: "What are you doing?"
Me: "I'm going to piss in this cup right here, bring the mat back over to our side, and then pour my pee cup onto our mat in order to mark my territory."
Roommate (laughing): "Uhhh, okay?!"

And I did just that. They, of course, switched it again later on that evening but at that point I could have given two shits. Those bitches could enjoy standing on my urine. The greatest moment was when I came home, drunk as shit, and found one of those skanks standing barefoot on my piss mat talking to a marine douche she was trying to fuck. Beautiful. Things remained relatively calm for a few weeks until one random Monday night.

To be continued

Athletic Shorts

"You know, when we first met your laziness was cute, now it's just sad." - A shitty friend of mine.

So I haven't left my bed all day. And I've worn a t-shirt covered in beans for 2 days (stop judging me). And I made my roommate go all Papa Spears and serve me Velveeta covered grits in bed this morning. And I'm starving now, but no one's home, so i'll keep on starving until they get back and can feed me. I have cat treats laying by the bed, chicken flavored, maybe i'll try one.

Side note: Cat treats taste like bong water.


I don't know the exact moment that I turned into my mother, but i'll know the transformation is complete when I consider dressing up the act of changing out of men's boxers and into athletic shorts to go get drunk at Applebee's. What I'm trying to say is, my mom's a fucking sloth. Don't get me wrong, I love the woman, but when you call your daughter and brag about the fact you've loaded the dishwasher that day... you're a piece of shit. I say all this with love, of course.

Now I feel it's necessary to go do something. To fight the inevitable future I'm going to lead, because holy shit how pathetic is it going to be when I start bragging about the fact that I did basic activities that normal human-beings accomplish on the regular? "Hey guys, guess what? I actually used soap today in the shower instead of just standing under the water for a few minutes. Alright, that shit wore me out. I'm going to lay on the bathroom floor for a few hours and eventually make my way back to the bed. No, can't go out tonight, all my athletic shorts are dirty."

The one thing I don't understand about my mother is the fact that she has a fuckton of athletic shorts, but I haven't seen her do anything athletic since 1998; when she forgot to put the e-brake on in her Saturn and she chased it down the hill until the only tree in the field put a stoppage to its driverless excursion.

This post wasn't going to be about my mother, but like any fucked up child, I'm going to blame her for my current situation. So, thanks mom, for making me a piece of shit. And can someone please bring me a glass of fucking water? These cat treats taste like donkey dick.

Hump Day

Today my roommate and I got into a lover's spat about god knows what. I was probably poking her like an obnoxious third grade bully, and she had the audacity to ask me to stop. I respond with,

"I'm going to pin you down and rape you in every orifice imaginable." 

You can visualize the stares I got while on campus. People that were sucking smelly frat dick and eating butthole the night prior were judging me. I then had a Vietnam-like flashback to all the things I've said on that campus that got me weird stares. I'll share them with you now...

Roommate: "Why are you walking funny?"

Me: "I just raped myself with some toilet paper. I just aborted a fetus in the ladies' room."

"I'm so sleep deprived I can't stay awake long enough to rub one out. You don't know shit about sleep deprivation."

"I'm not above scrambling some baby brains. "

"After I get done with this class I'm going to get really drunk, really high, and then skull fuck a kitten."

On that note, I'm going to go piss on some homeless people and finger my roommate's ferret. Happy Hump Day, everyone!

Things

• I hate cats, but for some reason I fell in love with Bagheera's doppelganger and I now have a bed covered in cat urine. And I still have yet to kill him. 

• I was voted Best Sense of Humor in high school. I secretly hated being the funny girl because I didn't think anyone found me attractive. I used to wish that people would see me as a nymphet. Now, I hate that people view me as something sexual and wish they'd view me as the hilarious motherfucker that I am. Isn't life a bitch?

• Before I send a text, I'll reread it about 4 times to make sure it's worded to my exact liking. 

• I don't think anyone knows my true self. I don't think I know how to even express who I am or what I want to be. 

• If you crack an inappropriate joke that silences the room and makes everyone uncomfortable, I'll want to be your friend.

• If you've seen every episode of Jake and Amir, I'll want to be your friend.

• If you feel like very few people really get (and appreciate) your sense of humor, that very few individuals are genuine, and that it's damn near impossible to find people that can live in the moment and enjoy one another's company without looking for something mundane to distract them, then we are soulmates. 

• I cried when I watched Pride & Prejudice. I also cried and couldn't finish Heidi when I was 8. 

• I hate my birthday because of the stigma tied to it. You have to have a bloody spectacular day, damnit.  

• I am happiest when I'm in the car, driving somewhere long distance. 

• I'm constantly testing people to see if they're passionate enough to continue. 

• I don't know how to NOT be guarded when I interact with people. 

• I've never been romantically in love with a man. 

Four Loko (Makes My Butthole Bleed)

This concoction of Satan's tears gets me in trouble every time I consume it. I generally act normal when I'm three sheets to the wind. I'm the type of drunk that likes to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. "Hey, you know what would be totally kickass? If you slam this beer can on your forehead." I then present them with a full can of beer to knock themselves unconscious with... I make a lot of friends this way. Last night I was really thirsty. I was also jonesing for a heart attack because I drank 2 vodka soaked sugar free Red Bulls and then proceeded to chug a Four Loko. I was guadafuckinglupe within an hour. I don't remember much, but the roommate was kind enough to refresh my memory.

-You were speaking gibberish
-You fondled A-hole's massive tits and then bitch slapped them.
-You smoked the pack of cigarettes you forced me to get for you then proceeded to steal other people's... in front of them.
-You bit me
-You were moody as fuck
-You ripped the door off of the ferret cage, sat indian style on the floor, and then proceeded to have a stare off with the poor animal.
-You climbed into my bed and when I told you to go to your own bed, you slammed my door and told me to fuck off and never talk to you again. Technically, I shouldn't be talking to your right now.

I woke up this morning and felt my insides burning with shame and resentment... and then it hit me, dear God did the smell hit me. I roll over and off the bed and see the spot. I slept in cat piss.

I just recently purchased a little bundle of joy from Petco a week ago and we've been inseparable ever since. I love this giant panther that I purchased. Apparently he loves me as well and hates it when I leave because in retaliation he decided to urinate all over the thing I love the most... my awesome fucking bed. So, between vomiting up my dignity and washing my sheets I've been scrubbing the hell out of my mattress. Happy fucking friday everyone!

50 McNugget Challenge

I'm leaning forward, clutching my stomach. “Why the fuck did we do that?” The room is spinning and the vision in my left eye is getting blurry. “I'm going to be sweating grease for a week.” My roommate/best friend challenged me to a 50 McNugget challenge and I don't back down from shit. 

It all started one fateful Sunday when the two of us had absolutely nothing to do. 

Roomie: "So, what do you want to do?"

Me: "I haven't really thought past sitting on my ass. What would you like to do?"

Roomie: "Want to try to eat 25 nuggets a piece?"

Me: "Why the fuck not?"

Our local McDonald's has this super sweet deal where you can purchase 50 McNuggets, 2 drinks, and 2 fries for $15. Yay for coronary bypass surgery! We paid* and giggled like 12 year old boys that just found their dad's porn stash. 

We started out innocently enough. Each of us getting through a 10-pack with no problems. I noticed that she was a little bit ahead of me. She noticed that I was downing some fries like Kristie Alley at a free taste testing at Krispy Kreme. We started to race. 

Me: "I'm going to fucking merk your ass."

Roomie: "Look at me, I can clearly eat more than you. I'm built like an ox."

Me: "I have the stamina, and enough bad judgement, to push past you, bitch."

We're neck and neck. I finished my fries before her, but she had a few nuggets on me. That's when we both hit the wall. We're sitting there, she's gagging, I'm sweating, and we both look at one another with pleading eyes. Please, dear God, one of us agree to back down. NEVER! I push past the pain and start stacking nuggets on top of one another and swallowing like a boa constrictor. When the last whole nugget slides down my throat and burns it's way into my stomach, I stand up and say, 

"YOU GOT PWND BITCH!!"

Then immediately laid on the cool, hardwood floor of our apartment to ease the hot flashes. 

I know it was absolutely ridiculous, but you know what… I FUCKING WON!

*I ended up having to charge our McDonald's adventure on my card because we couldn't break it up at the window. So, I now have a $15 + tax charge on my bank statement from McDonald's; which is some humiliating shit.